Chapter II: Part 2

ARISTIPPUS. The more in favour, the less I dare say.

PITHIAS. It is a courtier’s praise to help strangers in misery.

ARISTIPPUS. To help another, and hurt myself, it is an evil point
of courtesy.

PITHIAS. You shall not hurt yourself to speak for the innocent.

ARISTIPPUS. He is not innocent, whom the king judgeth nocent.

PITHIAS. Why, sir, do you think this matter past all remedy?

ARISTIPPUS. So far past, that Dionysius hath sworn, Damon to-morrow
shall die.

PITHIAS. This word my trembling heart cutteth in two.
Ah, sir, in this woful case that[67] wist I best to do?

ARISTIPPUS. Best to content yourself, when there is no remedy,
He is well relieved that foreknoweth his misery:
Yet, if any comfort be, it resteth in Eubulus,
The chiefest councillor about King Dionysius:
Which pitieth Damon’s case in this great extremity,
Persuading the king from all kind of cruelty.

PITHIAS. The mighty gods preserve you for this word of comfort.
Taking my leave of your goodness, I will now resort
To Eubulus, that good councillor:
But hark! methink I hear a trumpet blow.

ARISTIPPUS. The king is at hand, stand close in the prease.[68]
Beware, if he know
You are friend to Damon, he will take you for a spy also.
Farewell, I dare not be seen with you.

_Here entereth_ KING DIONYSIUS, EUBULUS _the
Councillor, and_ GRONNO _the Hangman._

DIONYSIUS. Gronno, do my commandment: strike off Damon’s irons by
and by.
Then bring him forth, I myself will see him executed presently.

GRONNO. O mighty king, your commandment will I do speedily.

DIONYSIUS. Eubulus, thou hast talked in vain, for sure he shall die.
Shall I suffer my life to stand in peril of every spy?

EUBULUS. That he conspired against your person, his accuser cannot
say:
He only viewed your city, and will you for that make him away?

DIONYSIUS. What he would have done, the guess is great: he minded
me to hurt,
That came so slyly to search out the secret estate of my court.
Shall I still lie in fear? no, no: I will cut off such imps betime,
Lest that to my farther danger too high they climb.

EUBULUS. Yet have the mighty gods immortal fame assigned
To all worldly princes, which in mercy be inclined.

DIONYSIUS. Let fame talk what she list, so I may live in safety.

EUBULUS. The only mean to that is, to use mercy,

DIONYSIUS. A mild prince the people despiseth.

EUBULUS. A cruel king the people hateth.

DIONYSIUS. Let them hate me, so they fear me.

EUBULUS. That is not the way to live in safety.

DIONYSIUS. My sword and power shall purchase my quietness.

EUBULUS. That is sooner procured by mercy and gentleness.

DIONYSIUS. Dionysius ought to be feared.

EUBULUS. Better for him to be well beloved.

DIONYSIUS. Fortune maketh all things subject to my power.

EUBULUS. Believe her not, she is a light goddess; she can laugh and
low’r.

DIONYSIUS. A king’s praise standeth in the revenging of his enemy.

EUBULUS. A greater praise to win him by clemency.

DIONYSIUS. To suffer the wicked to live it is no mercy.

EUBULUS. To kill the innocent it is great cruelty.

DIONYSIUS. Is Damon innocent, which so craftily undermined
Carisophus,
To understand what he could of king Dionysius?
Which surviewed the haven and each bulwark in the city,
Where battery might be laid, what way best to approach? shall I
Suffer such a one to live, that worketh me such despite?
No, he shall die, then I am safe: a dead dog cannot bite.

EUBULUS. But yet, O mighty king,[69] my duty bindeth me
To give such counsel, as with your honour may best agree:
The strongest pillars of princely dignity,
I find, is[70] justice with mercy and prudent liberality:
The one judgeth all things by upright equity,
The other rewardeth the worthy, flying each extremity.
As to spare those which offend maliciously,
It may be called no justice, but extreme injury.
So upon suspicion of each thing not well-proved,
To put to death presently whom envious flattery accused,
It seemeth of tyranny; and upon what fickle ground all tyrants do
stand,
Athens and Lacedemon can teach you, if it be rightly scann’d.
And not only these citizens, but who curiously seeks
The whole histories of all the world, not only of Romans and Greeks,
Shall well perceive of all tyrants the ruinous fall,
Their state uncertain, beloved of none, but hated of all.
Of merciful princes to set out the passing felicity
I need not: enough of that even these days do testify.
They live devoid of fear, their sleeps are sound, they dread no
enemy,
They are feared and loved, and why? they rule with justice and mercy,
Extending justice to such as wickedly from justice have swerved:
Mercy unto those who in[71] opinion of simpleness have mercy deserved.
Of liberty nought I say, but only this thing,
Liberty upholdeth the state of a king
Whose large bountifulness ought to fall to this issue,
To reward none but such as deserve it for virtue.
Which merciful justice if you would follow, and provident liberality;
Neither the caterpillars of all courts, _et fruges consumere nati_,
Parasites with wealth puff’d up, should not look so high;
Nor yet for this simple fact poor Damon should die.

DIONYSIUS. With pain mine ears have heard this vain talk of mercy.
I tell thee, fear and terror defendeth kings only:
Till he be gone, whom I suspect, how shall I live quietly,
Whose memory with chilling horror fills my breast day and night
violently?
My dreadful dreams of him bereaves my rest; on bed I lie
Shaking and trembling, as one ready to yield his throat to Damon’s
sword.
This quaking dread nothing but Damon’s blood can stay:
Better he die, than I to be tormented with fear alway.
He shall die, though Eubulus consent not thereto:
It is lawful, for kings, as they list, all things to do.

_Here_ GRONNO [_and_ SNAP] _bring in_ DAMON, _and_
PITHIAS _meeteth him by the way._

PITHIAS. O my Damon!

DAMON. O my Pithias! seeing death must part us, farewell for ever.

PITHIAS. O Damon, O my sweet friend!

SNAP. Away from the prisoner: what a prease have we here?

GRONNO. As you commanded, O mighty king, we have brought Damon.

DIONYSIUS. Then go to: make ready. I will not stir out of this place,
Till I see his head stroken off before my face.

GRONNO. It shall be done, sir. [_To Damon_] Because your eyes have
made such a-do.
I will knock down this your lantern, and shut up your shop-window too.

DAMON. O mighty king, where as no truth my innocent life can save,
But that so greedily you thirst[72] my guiltless blood to have,
Albeit (even in thought) I had not ought against your person:
Yet now I plead not for life, ne will I crave your pardon.
But seeing in Greece my country, where well I am known,
I have worldly things fit for mine alliance, when I am gone,
To dispose them, ere I die, if I might obtain leisure,
I would account it (O king) for a passing great pleasure:
Not to prolong my life thereby, for which I reckon not this,
But to set my things in a stay: and surely I will not miss,
Upon the faith which all gentlemen ought to embrace,
To return again, at your time to appoint, to yield my body here in
this place.
Grant me (O king) such time to despatch this inquiry,[73]
And I will not fail when you appoint, even here my life to pay.[74]

DIONYSIUS. A pleasant request! as though I could trust him absent,
Whom in no wise I cannot trust being present.
And yet though I sware the contrary, do that I require,
Give me a pledge for thy return, and have thine own desire.
He is as near now as he was before. [_Aside._

DAMON. There is no surer nor greater pledge than the faith of a
gentleman.

DIONYSIUS. It was wont to be, but otherwise now the world doth stand;
Therefore do as I say, else presently yield thy neck to the sword.
If I might with my honour, I would recall my word.

PITHIAS. Stand to your word, O king, for kings ought nothing say,
But that they would perform in perfect deeds alway.
A pledge you did require, when Damon his suit did meve,
For which with heart and stretched hands most humble thanks I give:
And that you may not say but Damon hath a friend,
That loves him better than his own life, and will do to his end,
Take me, O mighty king: my life I pawn[75] for his:
Strike off my head, if Damon hap at his day to miss.

DIONYSIUS. What art thou, that chargest me with my word so boldly
here?

PITHIAS. I am Pithias, a Greek born, which hold Damon my friend full
dear.

DIONYSIUS. Too dear perhaps, to hazard thy life for him: what
fondness[76] moveth thee?

PITHIAS. No fondness at all, but perfect amity.

DIONYSIUS. A mad kind of amity! advise thyself well: if Damon fail
at his day,
Which shall be justly appointed, wilt thou die for him, to me his
life to pay?

PITHIAS. Most willingly, O mighty king: if Damon fail, let Pithias
die.

DIONYSIUS. Thou seemest to trust his words, that pawnest thy life
so frankly.

PITHIAS. What Damon saith, Pithias believeth assuredly.

DIONYSIUS. Take heed, for [your] life:[77] wordly men break promise
in many things.

PITHIAS. Though wordly men do so, it never haps amongst friends.

DIONYSIUS. What callest thou friends? are they not men, is not this
true?

PITHIAS. Men they be, but such men as love one another only for
virtue.

DIONYSIUS. For what virtue dost thou love this spy, this Damon?

PITHIAS. For that virtue which yet to you is unknown.

DIONYSIUS. Eubulus, what shall I do? I would despatch this Damon
fain,
But this foolish fellow so chargeth me, that I may not call back my
word again.

EUBULUS. The reverent majesty of a king stands chiefly in keeping
his promise.
What you have said this whole court beareth witness,
Save your honour, whatsoever you do.

DIONYSIUS. For saving mine honour, I must forbear my will: go to.
Pithias, seeing thou tookest me at my word, take Damon to thee:
For two months he is thine: unbind him, I set him free;
Which time once expired, if he appear not the next day by noon,
Without further delay thou shalt lose thy life, and that full soon.
Whether he die by the way, or lie sick in his bed,
If he return not then, thou shalt either hang or lose thy head.

PITHIAS. For this, O mighty king, I yield immortal thanks. O joyful
day!

DIONYSIUS. Gronno, take him to thee: bind him, see him kept in
safety:
If he escape, assure thyself for him thou shalt die.
Eubulus, let us depart, to talk of this strange thing within.

EUBULUS. I follow.
[_Exeunt._

GRONNO. Damon, thou servest the gods well today; be thou of comfort.
As for you, sir, I think you will be hanged in sport.
You heard what the king said; I must keep you safely:
By Cock, so I will, you shall rather hang than I.
Come on your way.

PITHIAS. My Damon, farewell; the gods have thee in keeping.

DAMON. O my Pithias, my pledge, farewell; I part from thee weeping.
But joyful at my day appointed I will return again,
When I will deliver thee from all trouble and pain,
Stephano will I leave behind me to wait upon thee in prison alone,
And I, whom fortune hath reserved to this misery, will walk home.
Ah my Pithias, my pledge, my life, my friend, farewell.

PITHIAS. Farewell, my Damon.

DAMON. Loth am I to depart. Sith sobs my trembling tongue doth stay,
O music, sound my doleful plaints, when I am gone my way.
[_Exit Damon._

GRONNO. I am glad he is gone, I had almost wept too. Come, Pithias,
So God help me, I am sorry for thy foolish case
Wilt thou venter thy life for a man so fondly?

PITHIAS. It is no venter: my friend is just, for whom I desire to
die.

GRONNO. Here is a madman! I tell thee, I have a wife whom I love
well,
And if ich would die for her, chould ich were in hell.
Wilt thou do more for a man than I would for a woman?

PITHIAS. Yea, that I will.

GRONNO. Then come on your ways, you must to prison haste.
I fear you will repent this folly at last.

PITHIAS. That shalt thou never see. But O music, as my Damon
requested thee,
Sound out thy doleful tunes in this time of calamity.

[_Exeunt. Here the regals play a mourning song, and_ DAMON _cometh
in in mariner apparel and_ STEPHANO _with him_.

DAMON. Weep no more, Stephano, this is but destiny:
Had not this happ’d, yet I know I am born to die:
Where or in what place, the gods know alone,
To whose judgment myself I commit. Therefore leave off thy moan,
And wait upon Pithias in prison till I return again,
In whom my joy, my care and life doth only remain.

STEPHANO. O my dear master, let me go with you; for my poor company
Shall be some small comfort in this time of misery.

DAMON. O Stephano, hast thou been so long with me,
And yet dost not know the force of true amity?
I tell thee once again, my friend and I are but one:
Wait upon Pithias, and think thou art with Damon.
Whereof I may not now discourse, the time passeth away;
The sooner I am gone, the shorter shall be my journey:
Therefore farewell, Stephano, commend me to my friend Pithias,
Whom I trust to deliver in time out of this woful case.

STEPHANO. Farewell, my dear master, since your pleasure is so.
O cruel hap! O poor Stephano!
O cursed Carisophus, that first moved this tragedy!--
But what a noise is this? is all well within, trow ye?
I fear all be not well within, I will go see.--
Come out, you weasel: are you seeking eggs in Damon’s chest?
Come out, I say, wilt thou be packing? by Cock, you were best.

CARISOPHUS. How durst thou, villain, to lay hands on me?

STEPHANO. Out, sir knave, or I will send ye.
Art thou not content to accuse Damon wrongfully,
But wilt thou rob him also, and that openly?

CARISOPHUS. The king gave me the spoil: to take mine own wilt thou
let me?[78]

STEPHANO. Thine own, villain! where is thine authority?

CARISOPHUS. I am authority of myself; dost thou not know?

STEPHANO. By’r Lady, that is somewhat; but have you no more to show?

CARISOPHUS. What, if I have not?

STEPHANO. Then for an earnest penny take this blow.
I shall bombast you, you mocking knave; chill put pro in my purse
for this time.[79]

CARISOPHUS. Jack, give me my sword and target.

JACK. I cannot come to you, master, this knave doth me let. Hold,
master.

STEPHANO. Away, Jackanapes, else I will col’phise you[80] by and by:
Ye slave, I will have my pennyworths of thee therefore, if I die.
About, villain!

CARISOPHUS. O citizens, help to defend me.

STEPHANO. Nay, they will rather help to hang thee.

CARISOPHUS. Good fellow, let us reason of the matter quietly: beat
me no more.

STEPHANO. Of this condition I will stay, if thou swear, as thou art
an honest man,
Thou wilt say nothing to the king of this when I am gone.

CARISOPHUS. I will say nothing; here is my hand, as I am an honest
man.

STEPHANO. Then say on thy mind: I have taken a wise oath on him,
have I not, trow ye?
To trust such a false knave upon his honesty?
As he is an honest man (quoth you?) he may bewray all to the king,
And break his oath for this never a whit--but, my franion,[81] I
tell you this one thing:
If you disclose this, I will devise such a way,
That whilst thou livest, thou shalt remember this day.

CARISOPHUS. You need not devise for that, for this day is printed in
my memory;
I warrant you, I shall remember this beating till I die:
But seeing of courtesy you have granted that we should talk quietly,
Methinks in calling me knave you do me much injury.

STEPHANO. Why so, I pray thee heartily?

CARISOPHUS. Because I am the king’s man: keeps the king any knaves?

STEPHANO. He should not; but what he doth, it is evident by thee,
And as far as I can learn or understand,
There is none better able to keep knaves in all the land.

CARISOPHUS. O sir, I am a courtier: when courtiers shall hear tell,
How you have used me, they will not take it well.

STEPHANO. Nay, all right courtiers will ken me thank;[82] and wot
you why?
Because I handled a counterfeit courtier in his kind so finely.
What, sir? all are not courtiers that have a counterfeit show;
In a troop of honest men some knaves may stand, ye know,
Such as by stealth creep in under the colour of honesty,
Which sort under that cloak do all kinds of villainy,
A right courtier is virtuous, gentle, and full of urbanity,
Hurting no man, good to all, devoid of villainy:
But such as thou art, fountains of squirrility and vain delights;
Though you hang by the court, you are but flatt’ring parasites;
As well deserving the right name of courtesy,
As the coward knight the true praise of chivalry.
I could say more, but I will not, for that I am your well-willer.
In faith, Carisophus, you are no courtier but a caterpillar,
A sycophant, a parasite, a flatterer, and a knave.
Whether I will or no, these names you must have:
How well you deserve this by your deeds it is known,
For that so unjustly thou hast accused poor Damon,
Whose woful case the gods help alone.

CARISOPHUS. Sir, are you his servant, that you pity his case so?

STEPHANO. No, bum troth, goodman Grumb, his name is Stephano:
I am called Onaphets,[83] if needs you will know.
The knave beginneth to sift me, but I turn my name in and out,
_Cretizo cum Cretense_,[84] to make him a lout. [_Aside._

CARISOPHUS. What mumble you with yourself, Master Onaphets?

STEPHANO. I am reckoning with myself how I may pay my debts.

CARISOPHUS. You have paid me more than you did owe me.

STEPHANO. Nay, upon a farther reckoning, I will pay you more, if I
know
Either you talk of that is done, or by your sycophantical envy
You prick forth Dionysius the sooner, that Damon may die:
I will so pay thee, that thy bones shall rattle in thy skin.
Remember what I have said; Onaphets is my name.
[_Exit._

CARISOPHUS. The sturdy knave is gone, the devil him take!
He hath made my head, shoulders, arms, sides, and all to ache.
Thou whoreson villain boy, why didst thou wait no better?
As he paid me, so will I not die thy debtor.
[_Strikes him._

JACK. Master, why do you fight with me? I am not your match, you
see:
You durst not fight with him that is gone, and will you wreak your
anger on me?

CARISOPHUS. Thou villain, by thee I have lost mine honour,
Beaten with a cudgel like a slave, a vacabone, or a lazy lubber,
And not given one blow again. Hast thou handled me well?

JACK. Master, I handled you not, but who did handle you very
handsomely, you can tell.

CARISOPHUS. Handsomely! thou crack-rope.[85]

JACK. Yea, sir, very handsomely: I hold you a groat,
He handled you so handsomely, that he left not one mote in your
coat.

CARISOPHUS. O, I had firk’d him trimly, thou villain, if thou hadst
given me my sword.

JACK. It is better as it is, master, believe me, at a word.
If he had seen your weapon, he would have been fiercer,
And so perhaps beat you worse, I speak it with my heart,
You were never at the dealing of fence-blows, but you had four away
for your part.
It is but your luck, you are man good enough;
But the Welsh Onaphets was a vengeance-knave, and rough.
Master, you were best go home and rest in your bed,
Methinks your cap waxeth too little for your head.

CARISOPHUS. What! doth my head swell?

JACK. Yea, as big as a codshead, and bleeds too.

CARISOPHUS. I am ashamed to show my face with this hue.

JACK. No shame at all; men have been beaten far better than you.

CARISOPHUS. I must go to the chirurgeon’s; what shall I say, when I
am a-dressing?

JACK. You may say truly you met with a knave’s blessing.
[_Exeunt._

_Here entereth_ ARISTIPPUS.

ARISTIPPUS. By mine own experience I prove true that many men tell,
To live in court not beloved, better be in hell:
What crying out, what cursing, is there within of Carisophus,
Because he accused Damon to King Dionysius!
Even now he came whining and crying into the court for the nonce,
Showing that one Onaphets had broke his knave’s sconce.
Which strange name when they heard every man laugh’d heartily,
And I by myself scann’d his name secretly;
For well I knew it was some mad-headed child
That invented this name, that the log-headed knave might be
beguil’d.
In tossing it often with myself to and fro,
I found out that Onaphets backward spelled Stephano.
I smiled in my sleeve, how to see by turning his name he dress’d
him,
And how for Damon his master’s sake with a wooden cudgel he bless’d
him.
None pitied the knave, no man nor woman; but all laugh’d him to
scorn.
To be thus hated of all, better unborn:
Far better Aristippus hath provided, I trow;
For in all the court I am beloved both of high and low.
I offend none, insomuch that women sing this to my great praise,
_Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et locus et res_.
But in all this jollity one thing ’mazeth me,
The strangest thing that ever was heard or known,
Is now happened in this court by that Damon,
Whom Carisophus accused: Damon is now at liberty,
For whose return Pithias his friend lieth in prison, alas, in great
jeopardy.
To-morrow is the day, which day by noon if Damon return not,
earnestly
The king hath sworn that Pithias should die;
Whereof Pithias hath intelligence very secretly,
Wishing that Damon may not return, till he hath paid
His life for his friend. Hath it been heretofore ever said,
That any man for his friend would die so willingly?
O noble friendship! O perfect amity!
Thy force is here seen, and that very perfectly.
The king himself museth hereat, yet he is far out of square,
That he trusteth none to come near him: not even his own daughters
will he have
Unsearch’d to enter his chamber, while[86] he hath made barbers his
beard to shave,
Not with knife or razor, for all edge-tools he fears,
But with hot burning nutshells they singe off his hairs.
Was there ever man that lived in such misery?
Well, I will go in--with a heavy and pensive heart, too,
To think how Pithias, this poor gentleman, to-morrow shall die.
[_Exit._

_Here entereth_ JACK _and_ WILL.

JACK. Well, by mine honesty, I will mar your monkey’s[87] face, if
you so fondly prate.

WILL. Jack, by my troth, seeing you are without the court-gate,
If you play Jack-napes, in mocking my master and despising my face,
Even here with a pantable[88] I will you disgrace;
And though you have a far better face than I,
Yet who is better man of us two these fists shall try,
Unless you leave your taunting.

JACK. Thou began’st first; didst thou now not say even now,
That Carisophus my master was no man but a cow,
In taking so many blows, and gave[89] never a blow again?

WILL. I said so indeed, he is but a tame ruffian,
That can swear by his flask and twich-box,[90] and God’s precious
lady,
And yet will be beaten with a faggot-stick.
These barking whelps were never good biters,
Ne yet great crakers were ever great fighters:
But seeing you egg me so much, I will somewhat more recite;
I say, Carisophus thy master is a flatt’ring parasite;
Gleaning away the sweet from the worthy in all the court.
What tragedy hath he moved of late? the devil take him! he doth much
hurt.

JACK. I pray you, what is Aristippus thy master, is not he a parasite
too,
That with scoffing and jesting in the court makes so much a-do?

WILL. He is no parasite, but a pleasant gentleman full of courtesy.
Thy master is a churlish lout, the heir of a dung-fork; as void of
honesty
As thou art of honour.

JACK. Nay, if you will needs be prating of my master still,
In faith I must cool you, my friend, dapper Will:
Take this at the beginning.
[_Strikes him._

WILL. Praise well your winning, my pantable is as ready as yours.

JACK. By the mass, I will box you.

WILL. By Cock, I will fox you.

JACK. Will, was I with you?

WILL. Jack, did I fly?

JACK. Alas, pretty cockerel, you are too weak;

WILL. In faith, doating dottrel,[91] you will cry creak.

_Here entereth_ SNAP.

SNAP. Away, you crack-ropes, are you fighting at the court-gate?
And I take you here again, I will swinge you both: what!
[_Exit._

JACK. I beshrew Snap the tipstaff, that great knave’s heart, that
hither did come,
Had he not been, you had cried ere this, _Victus, victa, victum_:
But seeing we have breathed ourselves, if ye list,
Let us agree like friends, and shake each other by the fist.

WILL. Content am I, for I am not malicious; but on this condition,
That you talk no more so broad of my master as here you have done.
But who have we here? ’tis Coals I spy[92] coming yonder.

JACK. Will, let us slip aside and view him well.

_Here entereth_ GRIM _the Collier, whistling._

GRIM. What devil! ich ween the porters are drunk, will they not
dup[93] the gate to-day?
[To] take in coals for the king’s own mouth;[94] will nobody stir, I
say?
Ich might have lain tway hours longer in my bed,
Cha tarried so long here, that my teeth chatter in my head.

JACK. Will, after our falling out wilt thou laugh merrily?

WILL. Ay, marry, Jack, I pray thee heartily.

JACK. Then follow me, and hem in a word now and then--
What brawling knave is there at the court-gate so early?

WILL. It is some brainsick villain, I durst lay a penny.

JACK. Was it you,[95] sir, that cried so loud, I trow,
And bid us take in coals for the king’s mouth even now?

GRIM. ’Twas I, indeed.

JACK. Why, sir, how dare you speak such petty treason?
Doth the king eat coals at any season?

GRIM. Here is a gay world! boys now sets old men to school.
I said well enough: what, Jack-sauce, think’st cham a fool?
At bakehouse, butt’ry-hatch, kitchen, and cellar,
Do[96] they not say for the king’s mouth?

WILL. What, then, goodman collier?

GRIM. What, then! seeing without coals thee cannot finely dress the
king’s meat,
May I not say, take in coals for the king’s mouth, though coals he
do not eat?

JACK. James Christe! came ever from a collier an answer so trim?
You are learned, are you not, father Grim?

GRIM. Grim is my name indeed, cham not learned, and yet the king’s
collier:
This vorty winter cha been to the king a servitor,
Though I be not learned, yet cha mother-wit enough, whole and some.

WILL. So it seems, you have so much mother-wit, that you lack your
father’s wisdom.

GRIM. Mass, cham well-beset, here’s a trim cast of murlons.[97]
What be you, my pretty cockerels, that ask me these questions?

JACK. Good faith, Master Grim,[98] if such merlins on your pouch may
light,
They are so quick of wing, that quickly they can carry it out of
your sight;
And though we are cockerels now, we shall have spurs one day,
And shall be able perhaps to make you a capon [to your pay.[99]]
But to tell you the truth, we are the porter’s men, which early and
late
Wait on such gentlemen as you, to open the court-gate.

GRIM. Are ye servants then?

WILL. Yea, sir; are we not pretty men?

GRIM. Pretty men, quoth you? nay, you are strong men, else you could
not bear these breeches.

WILL. Are these such[100] great hose? in faith, goodman collier, you
see with your nose:
By mine honesty, I have but one lining in one hose, but seven ells
of rug.[101]

GRIM. This is but a little, yet it makes thee seem a great bug.

JACK. How say you, goodman collier, can you find any fault here?[102]

GRIM. Nay, you should [not] find fau’t, marry, here’s trim gear!
Alas, little knave, dost not sweat? thou goest with great pain,
These are no hose, but water-bougets,[103] I tell thee plain;
Good for none but such as have no buttocks.
Did you ever see two such little Robin ruddocks[104]
So laden with breeches? chill say no more, lest I offend.
Who invented these monsters[105] first, did it to a ghostly end,
To have a mail ready to put in other folks’ stuff,
We see this evident by daily proof.
One preached of late not far hence in no pulpit, but in a wain-cart,
That spake enough of this; but for my part,
Chill say no more: your own necessity
In the end will force you to find some remedy.

JACK. Will,[106] hold this railing knave with a talk, when I am gone:
I will fetch him his filling ale for his good sermon.
[_Exit._

WILL. Go thy way, Father Grim, gaily well you do say,
It is but young men’s folly, that list to play,
And mask awhile in the net of their own device;
When they come to your age, they will be wise.

GRIM. Bum troth, but few such roisters come to my years at this day;
They be cut off betimes, ere they have gone half their journey:
I will not tell why: let them guess that can, I mean somewhat
thereby.

_Enter_ JACK _with a pot of wine, and a cup to drink on._

JACK. Father Grim, because you are stirring so early,
I have brought you a bowl of wine to make you merry.

GRIM. Wine, marry! this is welcome to colliers, chill swap’t off by
and by:
Chwas stirring so early, that my very soul is dry.

JACK. This is stoutly done: will you have it warmed, Father Grim?

GRIM. No; it is warm enough; it is very lousious[107] and trim.
’Tis musselden,[108] ich ween; of fellowship let me have another
spurt,
Ich can drink as easily now, as if I satin my shirt.

JACK. By Cock, and you shall have it; but I will begin, and that
anon,
_Je bois a vous mon compagnon_.[109]

GRIM. _J’ai vous pleigé, petit Zawne._[110]

JACK. Can you speak French? here is a trim collier, by this day!

GRIM. What man! ich learned this, when ich was a soldier;
When ich was a lusty fellow, and could yerk a whip trimly,
Better than these boy-colliers, that come to the court daily:
When there were[111] not so many captious fellows as now,
That would torup[112] men for every trifle, I wot not how:
As there was one Damon, not long since taken for a spy;
How justly I know not, but he was condemned to die.

WILL (_aside._) This wine hath warmed him, this comes well to pass,
We shall know all now, for in _Vino veritas_.
Father Grim, who accused this Damon to King Dionysius?

GRIM. A vengeance take him! ’twas a gentleman, one Master Crowsphus.

WILL. Crowsphus! you clip the king’s language, you would have said
Carisophus.
But I perceive now either the wind is at the south,
Or else your tongue cleaveth to the roof of your mouth.

GRIM. A murrain take thilk wine, it so intoxicate my brain,
That to be hanged by and by I cannot speak plain.

JACK. You speak knavishly plain, seeing my master you do mock:
In faith, ere you go, I will make you a lobcock. [_Aside._
Father Grim, what say they of this Damon abroad?

GRIM. All men are sorry for him, so help me God.
They say a false knave ’cused him to the king wrongfully;
And he is gone, and should be here to-morrow to die,
Or else his fellow, which is in prison, his room shall supply.
Chill not be his half for vorty shillings, I tell you plain,
I think Damon be too wise to return again.

WILL. Will no man speak for them in this woful case?

GRIM. No, chill warrant you, one Master Stippus is in place,
Where he may do good, but he frames himself so,
Whatsoever Dionysius willeth, to that he will not say no:
’Tis a subtle vox, he will not tread on thorns for none,
A merry harecop[113] ’tis, and a pleasant companion;
A right courtier, and can provide for one.

JACK. Will, how like you this gear? your master Aristippus also
At this collier’s hand hath had a blow!
But in faith, Father Grim, cannot ye colliers
Provide for yourselves far better than courtiers?

GRIM. Yes, I trow: black colliers go in threadbare coats,
Yet so provide they, that they have the fair white groats.
Ich may say in counsel, though all day I moil in dirt,
Chill not change lives with any in Dionysius’ court:
For though their apparel be never so fine,
Yet sure their credit is far worse than mine.
And, by Cock, I may say, for all their high looks,
I know some sticks full deep in merchants’ books:
And deeper will fall in, as fame me tells,
As long as instead of money they take up hauks’ hoods and bells:
Whereby they fall into a swelling disease, which colliers do not
know;
’T ’ath a mad name: it is called, ich ween, _Centum pro cento_.
Some other in courts make others laugh merrily,
When they wail and lament their own estate secretly.
Friendship is dead in court, hypocrisy doth reign;
Who is in favour now, to-morrow is out again:
The state is so uncertain that I, by my will,
Will never be courtier, but a collier still.

WILL. It seemeth that colliers have a very[114] trim life.

GRIM. Colliers get money still: tell me of troth,
Is not that a trim life now, as the world go’th?
All day though I toil with my main and might,
With money in my pouch I come home merry at night,
And sit down in my chair by my wife fair Alison,
And turn a crab in the fire,[115] as merry as Pope John.

JACK. That pope was a merry fellow, of whom folk talk so much.

GRIM. H’ad to be merry withal, h’ad gold enough in his hutch.

JACK. Can gold make men merry? they say, who can sing so merry a
note,
As he that is not able to change a groat?[116]

GRIM. Who sings in that case, sings never in tune. I know for my
part,
That a heavy pouch with gold makes a light heart;
Of which I have provided for a dear year good store,
And these benters,[117] I trow, shall anon get me more.

WILL. By serving the court with coals, you gain’d all this money.

GRIM. By the court only, I assure ye.

JACK. After what sort, I pray thee tell me?

GRIM. Nay, there bate an ace (quod Bolton[118]); I can wear a horn
and blow it not.

JACK. By ’r Lady, the wiser man.

GRIM. Shall I tell you by what sleight I got all this money?
Then ich were a noddy indeed; no, no, I warrant ye.
Yet in few words I tell you this one thing,
He is a very fool that cannot gain by the king.

WILL. Well said, Father Grim: you are a wily collier and a brave,
I see now there is no knave like to the old knave.

GRIM. Such knaves have money, when courtiers have none.
But tell me, is it true that abroad is blown?

JACK. What is that?

GRIM. Hath the king made those fair damsels his daughters,
To become now fine and trim barbers?

JACK. Yea, truly, to his own person.

GRIM. Good fellows, believe me, as the case now stands,
I would give one sack of coals to be wash’d at their hands,
If ich came so near them, for my wit chould not give three chips,
If ich could not steal one swap at their lips.

JACK. Will, this knave is drunk, let us dress him.
Let us rifle him so, that he have not one penny to bless him,
And steal away his debenters[119] too. [_Aside._

WILL. Content: invent the way, and I am ready,

JACK. Faith, and I will make him a noddy. [_Aside._
Father Grim, if you pray me well,[120] I will wash you and shave you
too,
Even after the same fashion as the king’s daughters do:
In all points as they handle Dionysius, I will dress you trim and
fine.

GRIM. Chuld vain learn that: come on then, chill give thee a whole
pint of wine
At tavern for thy labour, when ’cha money for my benters here.

[_Here_ WILL _fetcheth a barber’s bason, a pot
with water,[121] a razor, and cloths, and a
pair of spectacles._

JACK. Come, mine own Father Grim, sit down.

GRIM. Mass, to begin withal, here is a trim chair.

JACK. What, man, I will use you like a prince. Sir boy, fetch me my
gear.

WILL. Here, sir.

JACK. Hold up, Father Grim.

GRIM. Me-seem my head doth swim.

JACK. My costly perfumes make that. Away with this, sir boy: be
quick.
Aloyse, aloyse,[122] how pretty it is! is not here a good face?
A fine owl’s eyes, a mouth like an oven.
Father, you have good butter-teeth full seen.
[_Aside_] You were weaned, else you would have been a great calf.
Ah trim lips to sweep a manger! here is a chin,
As soft as the hoof of an horse.

GRIM. Doth the king’s daughters rub so hard?

JACK. Hold your head straight, man, else all will be marr’d.
By’r Lady, you are of good complexion,
A right Croyden sanguine,[123] beshrew me.
Hold up, Father Grim. Will, can you bestir ye?

GRIM. Methinks, after a marvellous fashion you do besmear me.

JACK. It is with unguentum of Daucus Maucus, that is very costly:
I give not this washing-ball to everybody.
After you have been dress’d so finely at my hand,
You may kiss any lady’s lips within this land.
Ah, you are trimly wash’d! how say you, is not this trim water?

GRIM. It may be wholesome, but it is vengeance sour.

JACK. It scours the better. Sir boy, give me my razor.

WILL. Here at hand, sir.

GRIM. God’s arms! ’tis a chopping knife, ’tis no razor.

JACK. It is a razor, and that a very good one;
It came lately from Palermo,[124] it cost me twenty crowns alone.
Your eyes dazzle after your washing, these spectacles put on:
Now view this razor, tell me, is it not a good one?

GRIM. They be gay barnacles, yet I see never the better.

JACK. Indeed they be a young sight, and that is the matter;
But I warrant you this razor is very easy.

GRIM. Go to, then; since you begun, do as [it] please ye.

JACK. Hold up, Father Grim.

GRIM. O, your razor doth hurt my lip.

JACK. No, it scrapeth off a pimple to ease you of the pip.
I have done now, how say you? are you not well?

GRIM. Cham lighter than ich was, the truth to tell.

JACK. Will you sing after your shaving?

GRIM. Mass, content; but chill be poll’d first, ere I sing.

JACK. Nay, that shall not need; you are poll’d near enough for this
time.

GRIM. Go to then lustily, I will sing in my man’s voice:
Chave a troubling base buss.

JACK. You are like to bear the bob, for we will give it:
Set out your bussing base, and we will quiddle upon it.
[GRIM _singeth Buss_.

JACK _sings_. Too nidden and too nidden.

WILL _sings_. Too nidden and toodle toodle doo nidden;
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?

GRIM. Why, my fellows, think ich am a cow, that you make such
toying?

JACK. Nay, by ’r Lady, you are no cow, by your singing;
Yet your wife told me you were an ox.

GRIM. Did she so? ’tis a pestens quean,[125] she is full of such
mocks.
But go to, let us sing out our song merrily.

_The Song at the shaving of the Collier._

JACK. _Such barbers God send you at all times of need._
WILL. _That can dress you [so] finely, and make such quick speed;_
JACK. _Your face like an inkhorn now shineth so gay--_
WILL. _That I with your nostrils of force must needs play,
With too nidden and too nidden._
JACK. _With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?_

WILL. _With shaving you shine like a pestle of pork._[126]
JACK. _Here is the trimmest hog’s flesh from London to York._
WILL. _It would be trim bacon to hang up awhile._
JACK. _To play with this hoglin of course I must smile,
With too nidden and too nidden._
WILL. _With too nidden and todle, &c._

GRIM. _Your shaving doth please me, I am now your debtor._
WILL. _Your wife now will buss you, because you are sweeter._
GRIM. _Near would I be polled, as near as cham shaven._
WILL. _Then out of your jerkin needs must you be shaken.
With too nidden and too nidden, &c._

GRIM. _It is a trim thing to be wash’d in the court._
WILL. _Their hands are so fine, that they never do hurt._
GRIM. _Me-think ich am lighter than ever ich was._
WILL. _Our shaving in the court hath brought this to pass.
With too nidden and too nidden._
JACK. _With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely_[127] _shaven?_

GRIM. This is trimly done: now chill pitch my coals not far hence,
And then at the tavern shall bestow whole tway pence.
[_Exit_ GRIM.

JACK. Farewell, [by] Cock. Before the collier again do us seek,
Let us into the court to part the spoil, share and share [a]like.

WILL. Away then.
[_Exeunt._

_Here entereth_ GRIM.

GRIM. Out alas, where shall I make my moan?
My pouch, my benters, and all is gone;
Where is that villain that did me shave?
H’ ath robbed me, alas, of all that I have.

_Here entereth_ SNAP.

SNAP. Who crieth so at the court-gate?

GRIM. I, the poor collier, that was robbed of late.

SNAP. Who robbed thee?

GRIM. Two of the porter’s men that did shave me.

SNAP. Why, the porter’s men are no barbers.

GRIM. A vengeance take them, they are quick carvers.

SNAP. What stature were they of?

GRIM. As little dapper knaves, as they trimly could scoff.

SNAP. They are lackeys, as near as I can guess them.

GRIM. Such lackeys make me lack; an halter beswinge them!
Cham undone, they have my benters too.

SNAP. Dost thou know them, if thou seest them?

GRIM. Yea, that I do.

SNAP. Then come with me, we will find them out, and that quickly.

GRIM. I follow, mast tipstaff; they be in the court, it is likely.

SNAP. Then cry no more, come away.
[_Exeunt._

_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS _and_ ARISTIPPUS.

CARISOPHUS. If ever you will show your friendship, now is the time,
Seeing the king is displeased with me of my part without any crime.

ARISTIPPUS. It should appear, it comes of some evil behaviour,
That you so suddenly are cast out of favour.

CARISOPHUS. Nothing have I done but this; in talk I overthwarted
Eubulus,
When he lamented Pithias’ case to King Dionysius.
Which to-morrow shall die, but for that false knave Damon,
He hath left his friend in the briars, and now is gone.
We grew so hot in talk, that Eubulus protested plainly,
Which[128] held his ears open to parasitical flattery.
And now in the king’s ear like a bell he rings,
Crying that flatterers have been the destroyers of kings.
Which talk in Dionysius’ heart hath made so deep impression,
That he trusteth me not, as heretofore, in no condition:
And some words brake from him, as though that he
Began to suspect my truth and honesty,
Which you of friendship I know will defend, how so ever the world
goeth:
My friend--for my honesty will you not take an oath?

ARISTIPPUS. To swear for your honesty, I should lose mine own.

CARISOPHUS. Should you so, indeed? I would that were known.
Is your void friendship come thus to pass?

ARISTIPPUS. I follow the proverb: _Amicus usque ad aras_.

CARISOPHUS. Where can you say I ever lost mine honesty?

ARISTIPPUS. You never lost it, for you never had it, as far as I
know.

CARISOPHUS. Say you so, friend Aristippus, whom I trust so well?

ARISTIPPUS. Because you trust me, to you the truth I tell.

CARISOPHUS. Will you not stretch one point, to bring me in favour
again?

ARISTIPPUS. I love no stretching; so I may breed mine own pain.

CARISOPHUS. A friend ought to shun no pain, to stand his friend in
stead.

ARISTIPPUS. Where true friendship is, it is so in very deed.

CARISOPHUS. Why, sir, hath not the chain of true friendship linked
us two together?

ARISTIPPUS. The chiefest link lacked thereof, it must needs dissever.

CARISOPHUS. What link is that? fain would I know.

ARISTIPPUS. Honesty.

CARISOPHUS. Doth honesty knit the perfect knot in true friendship?

ARISTIPPUS. Yea, truly, and that knot so knit will never slip.

CARISOPHUS. Belike, then, there is no friendship but between honest
men.

ARISTIPPUS. Between the honest only; for, _Amicitia inter bonos_,[129]
saith a learned man.

CARISOPHUS. Yet evil men use friendship in things unhonest, where
fancy doth serve.

ARISTIPPUS. That is no friendship, but a lewd liking; it lasts but
a while.

CARISOPHUS. What is the perfectest friendship among men that ever
grew?

ARISTIPPUS. Where men love one another, not for profit, but for
virtue.

CARISOPHUS. Are such friends both alike in joy and also in smart?

ARISTIPPUS. They must needs; for in two bodies they have but one
heart.

CARISOPHUS. Friend Aristippus, deceive me not with sophistry:
Is there no perfect friendship, but where is virtue and honesty?

ARISTIPPUS. What a devil then meant Carisophus
To join in friendship with fine Aristippus?
In whom is as much virtue, truth and honesty,
As there are true feathers in the three Cranes of the Vintree:[130]
Yet their[131] feathers have the shadow of lively feathers, the
truth to scan,
But Carisophus hath not the shadow of an honest man.
To be plain, because I know thy villainy,
In abusing Dionysius to many men’s injury,
Under the cloak of friendship I play’d with his head,
And sought means how thou with thine own fancy might be led.
My friendship thou soughtest for thine own commodity,
As worldly men do, by profit measuring amity:
Which I perceiving, to the like myself I framed,
Wherein I know of the wise I shall not be blamed:
If you ask me; _Quare_? I answer, _Quia prudentis est multum
dissimulare_.
To speak more plainer, as the proverb doth go,
In faith, Carisophus, _cum Cretense cretizo_.
Yet a perfect friend I show myself to thee in one thing,
I do not dissemble, now I say I will not speak for thee to the king:
Therefore sink in thy sorrow, I do not deceive thee,
A false knave I found thee, a false knave I leave thee.
[_Exit_.

CARISOPHUS. He is gone! is this friendship, to leave his friend in
the plain field?
Well, I see now I myself have beguiled,
In matching with that false fox in amity,
Which hath me used to his own commodity:
Which seeing me in distress, unfeignedly goes his ways.
Lo, this is the perfect friendship among men now-a-days;
Which kind of friendship toward him I used secretly;
And he with me the like hath requited me craftily,
It is the gods’ judgment, I see it plainly,
For all the world may know, _Incidi in foveam quam feci_.
Well, I must content myself, none other help I know,
Until a merrier gale of wind may hap to blow.
[_Exit_.

_Enter_ EUBULUS.

EUBULUS. Who deals with kings in matters of great weight,
When froward will doth bear the chiefest sway,
Must yield of force; there need no subtle sleight,
No painted[132] speech the matter to convey.
No prayer can move, when kindled is the ire.
The more ye quench, the more increased[133] the fire.
This thing I prove in Pithias’ woful case,
Whose heavy hap with tears I do lament:
The day is come, when he, in Damon’s place,
Must lose his life: the time is fully spent.
Nought can my words now with the king prevail,
Against the wind and striving stream[134] I sail:
For die thou must, alas! thou seely Greek.
Ah Pithias, now come is thy doleful hour:
A perfect friend, one[135] such a world to seek.
Though bitter death shall give thee sauce full sour,
Yet for thy faith enroll’d shall be thy name
Among the gods within the book of fame.
Who knoweth his case, and will not melt in tears?
His guiltless blood shall trickle down anon.

_Then the_ MUSES _sing._

_Alas, what hap hast thou, poor Pithias, now to die!
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause to cry._
EUBULUS. _Methink I hear, with yellow rented hairs,
The Muses frame their notes, my state to moan:[136]
Among which sort, as one that mourneth with heart,
In doleful times myself will bear a part._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man which for his death, &c._

EUBULUS. _With yellow rented hairs, come on, you Muses nine;
Fill now my breast with heavy tunes, to me your plaint resign:_
_For Pithias I bewail, which presently must die,
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man which for his, &c._

EUBULUS. _Was ever such a man, that would die for his friend?
I think even from the heavens above the gods did him down send
To show true friendship’s power, which forc’d thee now to die.
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man, &c._

EUBULUS. _What tiger’s whelp was he, that Damon did accuse?
What faith hast thou, which for thy friend thy death doth not refuse?
O heavy hap hadst thou to play this tragedy!
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c._
MUSES. _[Woe] worth the man, &c._

EUBULUS. _Thou young and worthy Greek, that showeth such perfect
love,
The gods receive thy simple ghost into the heavens above:
Thy death we shall lament with many a weeping eye.
Woe worth the man, which for his death, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man, which for thy death hath given us cause
to cry._

EUBULUS. Eternal be your fame, ye Muses, for that in misery
Ye did vouchsafe to strain your notes to walk.
My heart is rent in two with this miserable case,
Yet am I charged by Dionysius’ mouth to see this place
At all points ready for the execution of Pithias.
Need hath no law: will[137] I or nil I, it must be done,
But lo, the bloody minister is even here at hand.

_Enter_ GRONNO.

Gronno, I came hither now to understand,
If all things are well appointed for the execution of Pithias.
The king himself will see it done here in this place.

GRONNO. Sir, all things are ready, here is the place, here is the
hand, here is the sword:
Here lacketh none but Pithias, whose head at a word,
If he were present, I could finely strike off--
You may report that all things are ready.

EUBULUS. I go with an heavy heart to report it. Ah woful Pithias!
Full near now is thy misery.
[_Exit_.

GRONNO. I marvel very much, under what constellation
All hangmen are born, for they are hated of all, beloved of none:
Which hatred is showed by this point evidently:
The hangman always dwells in the vilest place of the city.
That such spite should be, I know no cause why,
Unless it be for their office’s sake, which is cruel and bloody.
Yet some men must do it to execute laws.
Me-think they hate me without any just cause.
But I must look to my toil; Pithias must lose his head at one blow,
Else the boys will stone me to death in the street, as I go.
But hark, the prisoner cometh, and the king also:
I see there is no help, Pithias his life must forego.

_Here entereth_ DIONYSIUS _and_ EUBULUS.